


Who By Fire

by StealthKaiju



Series: Music of the Spheres [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: All Titles Nicked from Leonard Cohen, Humor, Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthKaiju/pseuds/StealthKaiju
Summary: ‘And who by fire, who by water (…) Who by high ordeal, who by common trial (…) who for his greed, who for his hunger / And who shall I say is calling?’Who By Fire by Leonard CohenPrompt: Rain / Storm / Downpour





	Who By Fire

‘Are you not coming round now? I have a fantastic bottle of Château Lafite 1787, was hoping you could give me an excuse to open it.’ Aziraphale tried to keep his voice light and jovial, to not let the disappointment he felt become obvious (thank god they weren’t on that ridiculous Skype nonsense – he wasn’t that good an actor).

‘Angel, you know I’d like to,’ said Crowley, and Aziraphale felt himself smile at the warmth in the demon’s voice. ‘But it’s absolutely pissing it down. I parked the Bentley about three miles from the museum – parking in central’s a right bugger, even for me – and it’s so wet outside.’

‘Don’t you have an umbrella? Don’t they sell them in those little gift shops in the museum? They must do, you spent so long thinking them up.’ Aziraphale replied.

‘They’ve only gone and sold the bloody lot. Besides, they’re practically useless for anything more than a light drizzle, therefore making them impractical for ninety percent of British weather.’ Crowley huffed. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time.’

‘So your plan is to wait out until it’s nice weather then, is it?’ Aziraphale tsked. ‘See you maybe some time in August then dear.’ He sighed. ‘Wait for me, why don’t you? I could meet you in that ground floor café, in about an hour. Ooh, do they still have those pastries, you know, the ones shaped like bows?’

Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale didn’t need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes. ‘Yes angel, they do.’

‘Marvellous. Be there soon, with an umbrella, like any sensible person who bothers to check the weather report.’

‘Zee,’ began Crowley, voice sickly sweet, ‘I never check the weather report – I’ve lived in this land for nearly two centuries, I know the weather is always going to be awful.’

*

‘How was the exhibit?’ Aziraphale asked. He carefully angled the umbrella over their heads so Crowley was completely sheltered, letting his own side get soaked.

‘The art was good to look at, but they’d mistranslated so much of it.’ Crowley sighed. ‘Still, nice to see it again.’

‘Always good to visit old projects, isn’t it?’ Aziraphale said, and waited while Crowley climbed into the Bentley and shut the door before he went round to the passenger’s side. He got in as quickly as he could, before Crowley could shout at him for getting rainwater on the interior. ‘So, you coming back to mine for a bit?’ he asked. _Please_, he didn’t say.

Crowley’s forehead scrunched a little, deep creases over the top of his sunglasses. ‘I’spose I could, for a little while.’ He patted his pocket. ‘Oh, got you something from the gift shop.’

‘Oh, that’s very sweet of you…’ began Aziraphale, but Crowley hissed a little, and waved his hand dismissively. It was hard to tell – perhaps it was just the glow of the neon lights from the clubs they passed, refracted through the rain – but Crowley’s cheeks just seemed to pinken. A beautiful rose colour, like Turkish delight. ‘It’ss nothing Angel, trusst me.’ Crowley cleared his throat, and pulled a small replica clay statue of a man in a loincloth, armed with a short dagger and small shield.

‘Thank you,’ Aziraphale took it gently, knowing where it would go on the shelf of knick-knacks where he kept all the little bits and pieces Crowley had picked up for him here and there. ‘Though I feel it must be said, you wore it better.’

Crowley’s laugh was loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain hammering on the windows.


End file.
